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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850934">we're a train wreck (waiting to happen)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewriterinmalfoy/pseuds/rare-pears'>rare-pears (Thewriterinmalfoy)</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bisexual Peter Parker, Friends to Lovers, Gay Harley Keener, Irondad, M/M, Maybe - Freeform, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie), Post-Spider-Man: Far From Home, but like from the grave, but like it takes a while, idk if this is considered slow burn, is this a college au?, parkner, pepper is an awesome mom, peter is sad, so has harley, sorry for that</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:02:17</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,162</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23850934</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thewriterinmalfoy/pseuds/rare-pears</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>They meet at Tony's funeral. Peter is a mess and Harley is just trying to go to college. What could go wrong there?</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Harley Keener/Peter Parker</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>38</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is my first attempt at a Parkner fic and I'm so glad the community is growing. I've had to play around with Harley's age a little bit to make it a bit more realistic; Harley was eight in IM3 and he didn't get snapped so he's 18 after A:E and for the majority of this fic. I also am not taking the end credit scene after FFH seriously and therefore it didn't happen. I love my boys and I just want them to be happy again. I will update tags as I add chapters</p>
<p>I want to thank my sister for proof-reading (and technically beta-ing). Aside form that any and all grammar mistakes are mine.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>     When they met, they were in the same vicinity for three days- at the expense of being at Tony’s funeral. If he was being honest, Peter didn’t really remember much from those three days. He’d stayed in an empty guest room at the cabin that felt all too cold to sleep in and what little sleep he did get left him sweaty, shaking and afraid to fall back asleep. What he did remember, was what happened those nights after he woke up.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>     When he woke, cold and exposed in the darkness of the room, he headed down to the kitchen to start himself a cup of hot chocolate (Peter could not stand the taste of coffee- doubted he ever would be able to). He was genuinely surprised, the first night, when he found- Harley was it?- sitting at the table, nursing what looked like a lemon popsicle.</p>
<p>     “Mornin’ ,” Harley said, and Peter really heard him for the first time. He had an accent, a very southern accent, but Peter had no idea where from. He looked at the time on the kitchen clock- 3:56.</p>
<p>Not really in the mood for conversation, Peter just nodded his head at Harley’s direction, and acknowledged (at least he hoped that’s how it came across) that he’d heard the kid. He wasn’t really a kid though- he didn't look like it. He looked young, maybe around Peter’s age, but he radiated a calm that Peter thought might have come with age. Or from having gone through his own set of things <em>no one your age should have to go through</em>.</p>
<p>Peter fought rolling his eyes at himself. He couldn’t count on his hands alone how many times someone had told him that- like he even had the choice. Being Spiderman didn’t give him the opportunity to think about the fact that he was awfully young to have done half the things he has. It was just the way it was now. Going through things.</p>
<p>What Peter had planned to do was get his hot chocolate and then go back to the room he was staying in; he didn’t think there was much else to do, and he thought it’d be weird to sit at the table all alone. But with knowing there was this guy who he’s never really spoken to, sitting at the table by himself, Peter couldn’t will himself to walk away and leave him there. He sat down directly across from Harley, at the opposite end of the long oak table, and took a sip from the mug in his hands.</p>
<p>It took too much effort for Peter to look up at the boy across from him and so he opted for staring at the mug. <em>Number 1 Dad</em>, it read, and Peter fought the violent urge to chuck it across the room. Or to dump out it’s contents and put it back where he got it from. He wasn't sure which option felt more appropriate.</p>
<p>He settled for tracing his finger over the words, and then turned the cup around. On the back, which Peter had also neglected to inspect, was not a photo of Morgan, but a photo of the boy sitting at the table with him. A photo of Harley. This time, Peter couldn’t suppress the devastating twist in the pit of his stomach as he ran to the front door and outside, leaving the mug in its place on the table. He made it two steps from the porch before he was on his hands and knees, puking up what little bit of coco he’d managed to drink and the rest of the lunch he’d eaten earlier.</p>
<p>He wasn’t sure how long he’d been on the ground for, but when he’d finally caught a few breaths in a row without retching again, he was able to hear shuffling on the steps beside him. They were awfully quiet, tentative steps, like the mere press of a foot would set Peter off again, and Peter was certain he shouldn’t have been able to hear them. He managed to turn his head to the side just enough to see a pair of feet- clad in a mismatched pair of socks; one was striped with red and yellow, not too far from gold, the other was all black save for a few light blue polka dots.</p>
<p>Peter sniffed at the wry sense of irony in the choice of footwear and immediately regretted it. He fell into a fit of coughs he hasn’t seen the likes of since being bitten, and each sharp, new breath of air came with the taste of his own bile, which sat mocking him from the ground beneath him. He felt tears sting at his eyes from the taste, the coughing or the lack of pain he felt, Peter wasn’t sure even a doctor could tell. Whichever it was, he knew he would be gone if he let himself think about the reason too much and decided not to pay attention to them, but to pay attention to the person on the steps instead.</p>
<p>He stood up slowly, pushing off the ground with shaky hands and bracing himself on his knees for a few seconds longer than he really needed to before standing up completely, now forced to face Harley. Half of his face was lit up from the reflection of the moon, but he had long hair that covered most of the top. He was wearing a blue t-shirt with what looked like a school logo on it, and it said Class of 2023 in a bright green font underneath the design. He was wearing plaid pajama bottoms in the same green as the words on his shirt. That told Peter two things: one, this kid just graduated so he was probably, like, 18, and two, he did know how to match his clothes, so the socks were intentional.</p>
<p>Peter didn’t think that Harley was particularly judging him, but that he looked rather concerned (and a decent bit tired, but Peter could understand that one).</p>
<p>Proving his thoughts right, Harley took the two steps down toward him, hesitating at the last step before seemingly coming to a conclusion and stepping into the grass next to Peter, taking no discretion in side-stepping the remnants of Peter’s lunch.</p>
<p>     “You okay?” he asked, three syllables that didn't seem insincere coming to Peter through an accent like that. Peter noticed his fingers twitch at his side before he reached a cautious hand up to rest on Peter’s left shoulder.</p>
<p>Peter shook his head, but feeling that the inquisition deserved more than a jerky nod, he spoke, “M’alright. It’s all just a bit off right now.” He knew that he probably didn’t make any sense; that Harley didn’t know Peter was literally feeling off, like his senses were completely imbalanced and that he couldn’t feel much of anything anymore. That the fact he could even hear Harley walking outside, was an accomplishment in and of itself for him right now.</p>
<p>     “Okay,” Harley said and dropped his hand, “you’re not gonna puke again are you?”</p>
<p>     “No.”</p>
<p>He didn’t think there was anything left in him to puke, but he didn’t want to test that theory either. Verbal confirmation seemed to be all he needed because Harley started back toward the inside of the house, taking Peter with him.</p>
<p>When he came back to the table, he noted that the mug was missing from where Peter had left it earlier, and he tried to look discreetly at the sink but it wasn’t there either. What he did see, however, was a slightly melted popsicle in a flimsy plastic wrapper placed directly in front of the chair Peter was previously sitting in.</p>
<p>Harley didn’t say anything, he just pulled his chair back out from the table and sat back down. Peter sat down too and he picked up the popsicle. Every move he made, trying desperately to open the plastic without spilling it, seemed like it was louder than the next and Peter was burning hot with discomfort. There was something incredibly awkward about opening a popsicle at four in the morning- given to you by pretty much a stranger- because you freaked out after drinking from a mug belonging to your late role-model that has the same stranger’s face on it. Peter couldn’t have made it up if he tried.</p>
<p>Eventually, after what felt like several minutes, Peter managed to free the popsicle and put it in his mouth. Not lemon, like he expected, but sweeter, like coconut. It’s good, and actually very relaxing. His breathing had slowed down again, and surprisingly he didn’t feel weird for eating the popsicle while Harley watched in silence.</p>
<p>He looked back up at Harley, who even in the dark Peter could tell was blushing, but he was too preoccupied with his increasing drowsiness to pay much mind to it. And when Peter finished the popsicle, much too quickly in his opinion, Harley moved to stand up again.</p>
<p>     “You should go back to bed,” he directed Peter, “try and get some actual rest.”</p>
<p>Like he was one to talk, Peter thought, but Harley seemed to be doing this out of his own generosity and so Peter listened. He made his way back to his room and hit the bed hard with the weight of his exhaustion. He didn’t know how long it took for him to get to sleep, but at least this time he hadn’t fallen straight into another nightmare.</p>
<p>The next night, after a long day of goodbyes shuffling between super-abled friends and a few fellow Avengers who had business elsewhere to attend to and a lengthy sit-down reading of Tony’s will, Peter found himself awake again.</p>
<p>Instead of wallowing in his insomnia, Peter elected to go in search of one of those popsicles Harley gave him last night. And really, he was only marginally surprised when, after he finds no box in the freezer, Harley piped up behind him, “all out I’m afraid,” before he tossed a clean wooden stick into the trashcan between them.</p>
<p>Peter had a brief moment, where he worries about the fact that Harley is awake too; Peter’s lack of sleep had been taking a toll on him- and he has heightened healing- he couldn’t imagine how it would be impacting Harley (who, as far as Peter knows, is completely human-abled). But after that moment, Peter realized that it was Harley who ate the last popsicle and snorted.</p>
<p>     “Like you didn’t enjoy every last drop, knowing I wasn’t going to be able to have it?”</p>
<p>Harley laughed a little, and Peter had a feeling he only stopped himself for the sake of staying quiet. He doesn’t respond, reaching into the cabinet to the right of himself to pull out two mugs. Peter didn’t think he was going to respond, but he set the two mugs on the counter and turned to face Peter.</p>
<p>     “Had I known you wanted one, I would have split that one in half and shared it with you.”</p>
<p>Peter gaped at him. He could feel his mouth hang open just a little, as he searched Harley’s face for the tell of a joke, but instead he was met with a look of utmost sincerity. He was not prepared for the sheer kindness directed toward him- wasn’t really used to it- and could only manage to close his mouth before quickly coming to his senses and answering, “well, thank you, I guess, for the aforementioned hypothetical sacrifice.”</p>
<p>Harley shook his head then, and Peter thought he saw a small smile before Harley pointed to the table.</p>
<p>     “Sit,” he said.</p>
<p>Peter sat at the same spot as the night before, and let himself trace the patterns in the wood that he recognized. He got bored quickly though, and turned then to watch as Harley poured something into each of the mugs, bringing one over to Peter and carrying the other back with him to the seat he sat in last time.</p>
<p>He noticed right away that the mug in Harley’s hands was the one Peter unknowingly grabbed the other night and felt himself still. Harley must have noticed this, because he looked down at his mug with a sad smile before meeting Peter’s gaze. Peter thought about apologizing, was about to apologize, when Harley started speaking.</p>
<p>     “My real dad left when I was too young to remember him; I don’t know much, just that he told my ‘ma that he was going to the store and that he never came back. My ‘ma was pregnant with my sister then, and she didn’t have much time for watching me in between her shifts at the diner.”</p>
<p>Harley was staring back into his cup, like it was playing back a video of exactly what he was saying. Peter looked back into his own, he hadn’t tried whatever Harley had put in it and a small part of him deep within the back of his mind was telling him he should be a bit more cautious and much less trusting of this kid. He ignored that part of him though, and took a sip anyways.</p>
<p>Peter relished in the taste of chocolate and coconut on his tongue as he listened to Harley continue.</p>
<p>     “Tony was really the closest thing I had to a dad after that. He kept in touch, after he left Tennessee. He would send emails and letters. That first Christmas, he filled my garage with gifts. My ‘ma never told me that he would occasionally send money to her too. I would just know that one year, when my birthday came around, there was a brand new bike sitting in the living room. She told me it was a gift from Mr. Stark, but he’d already sent his card.</p>
<p>“I remember how happy it made my ‘ma that I had something new for once, something that had only been mine. And I remember how much I wanted to thank Tony. So when Father’s Day was close, I took some of the lunch money I had secretly set aside and brought that picture of me to the grocery store. I didn’t tell my ‘ma about it, thought she’d be mad at me for thinking about another guy as my dad. I told the guy behind the counter that I wanted it on the side of a coffee mug and for it to say, ‘Number 1 Dad.’</p>
<p>“I wanted it to be the number sign, not the word number, and I remember being so upset when I saw it for the first time that I almost didn’t send it. But I had already written out the next letter that I’d be giving it with and I talked about the mug in it. I didn’t want to waste paper just so I could rewrite it and not mention the mug so I sent it anyways.</p>
<p>“It didn’t take very long to get a letter back, like it sometimes did. He thanked me for the mug, but he made it very clear to point out that he was not my real dad. I don’t think he meant it to be mean, and I actually think now that he did it more to keep me out of his trouble, but I was young enough that it devastated me. I know it got bad enough at some point because I told my ‘ma everything about it when she asked. She wasn't mad at me, like I thought she was gonna be, but she did tell me I should have told her about it first.</p>
<p>“I didn’t think he’d kept it. I knew he didn’t hate me for it because he still wrote and emailed, and he still sent a christmas present to me and my sister each year. After the Snap, it was just my ‘ma and I, and eventually Tony invited us to their Christmas here. He was up late one night, or up early one morning, I don’t really know which, and he had his coffee in this mug, sitting on his desk. I was coming down for a glass of water because I couldn’t sleep. ‘Ma kept crying in her sleep and I didn’t want to go back to sleep knowing she was upset. I was staying up to watch her and make sure she was alright first, but she woke up too and asked for water.</p>
<p>“When I came down, Tony asked me if everything was alright and I couldn’t lie to him. I thought about it, but I’d tried before and it never worked. He always knew, and I think he got even better after Morgan was old enough to string sentences together. So I told him about ‘ma and how I couldn’t sleep. That’s when he pulled out the popsicles. He told me that coconut helps you relax, and that he usually gets himself one when he can’t sleep, or gives one to Morgan. I thought Pepper just Pavloved him into thinking that, and maybe she did, but it worked for me.</p>
<p>“I never asked about the mug and I’m pretty sure he knew I saw it. It never occured to me that he’d kept it or even that he’d use it, but seeing it that night reminded me why I sent it in the first place. Tony was a caring person. He might not have always shown it, but he cared so much about people that I think it pained him sometimes. More than he let on. I knew that one day when I was able to, I wanted to help people the way Tony helped people. The way he helped me.”</p>
<p>Harley looked like he was crying, but it was kind of hard for Peter to tell through the tears that were threatening to betray him. He sounded completely wrecked and it came at him again, that wave of guilt and dread and pain that he felt when he watched Tony breathe his last breath.</p>
<p>The feeling he got when he watched his world come apart and there was nothing he could do about it. It was the worst kind of pain he’d ever felt, and if it weren’t for him being in the presence of Harley, he probably would have curled into himself and let it all go. Piece by piece he would let this pain take him apart, and he would pray that somehow he’d find a way to put himself back together. He’d been waiting for that moment where he actually lets go of everything he’d been feeling.</p>
<p>He felt like there was a ball attached to a string over his head and every day the string would get lower and the ball would get closer and closer to crashing down on him. It still hasn’t happened. Peter thought that maybe, once he did that, he would be better. Maybe he would start to feel things again. But his tears dry up all too quickly, like there’s a part of him that’s afraid of what’ll happen next. That there was no way to put himself back together again.</p>
<p>He sobered completely when he heard a small sob come from the other side of the table.<br/>Without giving it much thought, he moved from his seat into the one directly next to Harley. He didn’t do anything else but sit. He didn’t really need to do much else. It seemed like just having his presence there helped to slowly calm Harley down.</p>
<p>His hand was shaking, but Peter watched Harley pull the mug up to his lips and take a very long, very shaky sip. Harley nearly choked on the drink, but Peter wouldn’t say anything. When Harley set the mug back down on the table, he traced his thumb over the words, almost exactly how Peter had done it.</p>
<p>He laughed then, and it’s all wet but no force. Peter tilted his head to look at the mug and to figure out what it was that had made Harley laugh. Harley swept his thumb over the words again and that’s when he saw it; what he originally thought was spelled <em>Number</em>, was actually spelled <em>Nubmer.</em> Peter laughed too, because man, <em>Nubmer</em>, really?</p>
<p>Peter thought they’d laughed a little too loud when he saw Pepper step into the kitchen. Immediately he quietened, and made jerky movements toward Harley to get him to be quiet too. But Pepper didn't look angry or upset, she had a smile on her face that Peter thought made her really look like a mother.</p>
<p>     “Keep it,” she said, nodding to the mug in Harley’s hands, “he loved it about as much as he loved you.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A large part of Peter wasn’t ready to leave. Leaving meant going back to a place he wasn’t sure he belonged. Leaving meant being Spiderman again. And it wasn’t like Peter didn’t appreciate Spiderman, he owed a great deal of his life to being Spiderman (probably even the fact that he still had a life). But it felt like going back to Spiderman meant he was supposed to be okay with moving on from everything else. From Tony. From Natasha. From coming back.</p>
<p>Peter wasn’t ready to be okay, but he had to be ready to leave. Europe was only about a week away and he still had a lot of planning to do so that he could get a moment alone with MJ. And packing, he still had packing to do too.</p>
<p>May was already on the airplane Pepper had set up for them. Happy was there too, under the guise of <em>making sure you don’t threaten the integrity of the plane or anything that’s in it</em>. Really though, Peter thought Happy just wanted to make sure they all made it to New York safely. Harley was also on the plane; he said something about going to school in the city and Pepper said there was a place he could stay, something he was trying out before the semester started.</p>
<p>Pepper waited for him on the runway. Morgan was at her side, standing just a step behind her. Peter bent down, held out his fist in front of her. Morgan smiled wide and tapped her tiny fist sideways against his and Peter made the motion of shooting a web, encasing her whole hand between his index and pinky fingers. He brought his other hand up to his lips and Morgan giggled, mocking him.</p>
<p>     “Shhh,” she whispered after him.</p>
<p>Pepper rested her hand on Peter’s arm after he stood up to face her. The smile she had on her face was not unlike the smile from the other night, when she caught him and Harley talking about Tony- it was a little sad.</p>
<p>     “He did it for you,” she told him, “he couldn’t stand to know he could do something to bring you back, and not do it.”</p>
<p>Peter wasn’t sure what to say to that. Thank you? I’m sorry? But Pepper knew, she just had a way of knowing (her own way) and Peter knew it too.</p>
<p>     “He loved you too,” she said and Peter let her pull him close and into her embrace. Pepper’s hugs were tight, but this hug felt especially tight, like she was trying to tell him everything she couldn’t quite put into words. Petter hugged her back just as tightly, hoping to the universe that he was doing the same.</p>
<p>Pepper pulled back slightly to place a gentle kiss to his cheek, “keep an eye on him, will you? He’s a good kid.”</p>
<p>Peter nodded. He was sure Harley could probably take care of himself, but if Pepper wanted him to look after Harley, then it was the least he could do. He waved goodbye to the both of them when he reached the top of the stairs leading into the plane, finding his seat inside and getting ready for takeoff. Getting ready to go back home.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello again :) another lovely (shorter than intended) chapter for you all!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Peter had been fighting back tears for at least three hours before he decided to put the Spiderman suit on. He couldn’t clear his head; he understood where MJ was coming from, and frankly, he knew it was probably for the best. That still didn’t make the fact that they broke up any less painful.</p>
<p>We’re very different people, Peter, and I- I think our differences are better matched as friends. We've got some figuring out to do, but not with each other, she paused then and she took her hand off of where it was resting on top of Peter’s, looking him straight in the eyes before continuing, at least not yet. I have my own shitty end-of-the world and people-keep-attacking-me crap to sort though. You- you have some Spiderman superhero I-saved-the-world-crap to sort through. I just don’t think a relationship is realistic here. Not the two of us, not right now.    </p>
<p>Peter understood it. He was off. He’d been snapped, out of all known existence for five years (five years he didn’t even know he’d missed) and when he was finally given the chance to take a break from it all, he got played. Manipulated. Mysterio proved to him just how much of a kid he was. Is. </p>
<p>But he still left MJ’s house with shaky hands and a tightness in his chest. He didn’t think anything would ease the ache, not anymore; not after everything that’s happened. Peter couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t felt the tightness in his chest- wasn’t sure it’d ever go away.  </p>
<p>The first thing he did was go back home. He sat in his room for fifteen minutes before being still became too much. He decided walking around might help, but quickly learned that walking led to more thinking and thinking was not something he wanted to do. Thinking made the knot in his chest tighten and his eyes prickle with tears. </p>
<p>He tried sleeping- forcing himself to lay down and shut his eyes. He wrapped himself in his blankets and pulled his pillow over his head, trying anything- everything- to shut it all out. He tossed around until he couldn’t figure out which way was out of his bed and the blankets were wound so tightly around his legs that he could barely move, let alone take them out from under it. It was three hours into his own self-pity that Peter decided to put on the suit- because patrolling was better than thinking. </p>
<p>New York was always busy, but for a Tuesday afternoon in the middle of September, Peter would have expected more people to be inside. There really hadn’t been much neighborhood that needed their friendly neighborhood Spiderman lately, and Peter wasn’t expecting to do more than help an old lady across the street or take a kid to their parents. </p>
<p>Part of him wanted to be as far away from home as possible. May kept giving him looks, like she knew something was wrong and like she wanted to help him but she didn't exactly know how. It hurt Peter more than he thought it helped, because he didn’t want his problems to feel like anyone else’s problems. Like MJ said, figuring out to do, but not with each other. Peter had to figure it out himself- May couldn’t do it for him. </p>
<p>He made it to Manhattan, only a few blocks from Stark Towers, when he felt the ground beneath him shake. </p>
<p>“Woah, hey Karen is this an earthquake? I didn't think New York really got any of those?”</p>
<p>“None of my systems have detected an earthquake, but there have been several 911 calls from a location five blocks from here.”</p>
<p>“Five blocks? Five blocks from here is another one of Tony’s buildings. What were the calls for?”<br/>Peter was already moving though, leveraging himself between buildings. He briefly stopped at Stark Industries, turning his head to the top of the tower, “Karen is Harley still in there?”</p>
<p>“Yes, Peter. But it seems Mr. Keener is on his way d-” Karen didn’t need to finish because Harley walked right out of the Tower’s front doors looking frantic and utterly disheveled. His hair was a mess and he had a weirdly shaped, long object in his right hand that he seemed to be trying to hide inside his hoodie. He was looking to his right, toward the site of the calls and he was starting to run that way. </p>
<p>Peter webbed at the building across the street from him under a sign that read Giordani’s and then to the building adjacent to Harley, stopping directly in front of him and putting his hands out in front of him, attempting to stop Harley. </p>
<p>“Woah, woah woah, what’re you doing?” </p>
<p>Harley stopped and then took a step back, tilting his head to the side. People don’t usually react with confusion to Spiderman- but then again Harley isn’t people. And he was apparently stupid enough to run right into toruble. </p>
<p>Peter hadn't been stopping anybody else (he didn’t really need to, everyone else was running in the opposite direction). He was not used to having to explain himself, but he had to make sure Harley wasn’t going to follow him. </p>
<p>“It- it’s all good. I’ve got this. You’re safe, go back inside,” Peter waved his hand back toward Stark Tower, motioning for Harley to go back in and hoping like hell that he would listen. </p>
<p>Harley stood still in front of him, he ran his free hand through his hair and then unzipped his hoodie to show Peter what looked like a stripped-down blaster, not unlike the ones he knew were in the Ironman suits. “What if I can help?” he asked. </p>
<p>“Really it’s okay,” Peter said, putting both hands back out in front of himself from where he’d dropped them at his sides, pushing them at Harley as he began to walk backwards before pointing to the blaster, “that definitely doesn’t look legal, dude. Trust me, I’ve got this-”</p>
<p>Peter still didn’t know what this was, but Karen seemed to be following along because she piped up, “bombing.”</p>
<p>“-this bombing under control. You’re much safer here.”</p>
<p>Harley’s eyes widened enough that Peter could actually see the change- and he was probably ten feet away at this point. He didn’t look scared, per se, but he looked down at the blaster and then back up at Peter as he shook his head like he was clearing it. </p>
<p>He held it up before letting out a breath that almost sounded like a laugh, “guess it wouldn’t do much in helping an explosion, would it?”</p>
<p>Peter just shrugged, not sure what else to do but pretty sure Harley wasn’t going to follow after him. He turned around and took off in a sprint the rest of the way, skidding to a stop when a fire truck flew past him. </p>
<p>The entire left side of the building in front of him was on fire, and the bottom left corner was torn to bits. Pieces of glass and metal were scattered around his feet and the only thing holding that side of the building up were a few metal beams, most of which were no longer straight. There were only two letters still attached to the front of the building- A and R- and the letter K was hanging by a cord. </p>
<p>Peter recognised the place, it was one of Tony’s real internship labs. He set them up after they used the excuse of the internship to ease Aunt May into letting him leave with Tony. She didn’t know he went to Berlin, but she trusted Tony and figured the internship was a good experience for him and for college applications, she said. </p>
<p>Peter had never been inside this lab in particular, but if he actually decided to do an internship with Stark Industries (which Tony had offered him several times) this is probably the place he would’ve worked. </p>
<p>“Is anyone still in there?” He looked the building up and down, letting Karen and the suit survey everything inside of it. </p>
<p>“No one on the bottom five levels. There are three heat signatures on the seventh floor, but Peter, the integrity of the building is at only twenty-five percent. If you put too much pressure in the wrong spot, the whole thing could come down.”</p>
<p>Peter snorted a laugh, “Never thought I’d be grateful for having been at the bottom of a pile of broken building before. Can you tell me what places I need to steer clear of?”</p>
<p>“I can, but only if you’re up there. I can’t tell you from here what the floor up there is like.”</p>
<p>“Well, then I guess I’ll have to go up there.”</p>
<p>Peter jumped up, placing one foot and one hand against the window of the place behind him, crawling up past the third level. He webbed the roof of the Stark building and leapt off of the side of the other building, balling himself up as he swung toward the seventh floor. He let go of the web and kicked out his feet as they met with the glass window. He rolled over the shards and quickly came back up to his feet. </p>
<p>“Where are they?”</p>
<p>“They’re two doors down on the right, all three of them are together but I’m only getting movement from one of them.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Peter said, swinging from the ceiling toward the door Karen told him to, jumping up to crawl on the ceiling when the floor beneath him began to give out, “okay Karen, how stable is the floor here?”</p>
<p>“You are two feet from the weak spot, any excess pressure will cause it to crack more and likely fall out from underneath you. You might be able to stand on it yourself, but it can’t withstand the weight of more than one person.”</p>
<p>Peter crawled up to the front of the door that was closed in front of him. He never really had to worry about those fire safety programs they used to teach him at school, but he knew now that he couldn’t just open the door- even if he was pretty sure there wasn’t any fire behind it. </p>
<p>Carefully, Peter peeled his feet off of the ceiling and then let his grip loosen until he was just above the ground. If he’d had the time, he probably would’ve laughed at how he was literally hanging off the walls, but he let go all of the way and tried to evenly distribute his weight on the floor. He reached for the handle, first touching it briefly to see if it was hot before deciding it was safe. </p>
<p>He knocked three times against the wood of the door, shouting a little bit and asked, “Hey, can anyone in there hear me? I’m here to help.”</p>
<p>He waited a few seconds and couldn’t hear anything so he knocked one more time before he could hear a girl's voice from behind the door shouting back at him, “In here! We need help, please!”  </p>
<p>Peter made sure none of them were directly behind the door and told her to try not to move and then slowly pushed the door open. The room wasn’t all that big and Peter honestly thought it looked like it was supposed to be a closet of some sort that had been converted into a workroom. The girl who was talking to him was sitting against a thin, brown desk in the back right corner. She had a gash that was dripping blood down the side of her head and down to her cheek. Her arms were covered in scratches but she otherwise looked okay. </p>
<p>There was a long conference-style table that took up most of the space in the room pushed all the way against the left wall and two of the four chairs that were placed in front of it were knocked over, backs against the ground. Peter couldn’t see the other two people that were supposed to be in the room.  </p>
<p>“Where are the others?” he asked the girl, and she brought a shaky hand up above her head, pointing behind the desk she was sitting against. There was blood covering her fingers.  </p>
<p>“There,” she said weakly. She had her knees pulled up to her chest and Peter noticed that the bottom of her shirt was ripped up. Somehow, she was looking paler than she did only seconds before.</p>
<p>“Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”</p>
<p>The girl opened her mouth but then shut it slowly resorting to shaking her head once up and down and then left to right, answering each of Peter’s questions. </p>
<p>“Okay, what’s your name?”</p>
<p>“Nora,” she said.</p>
<p>“Alright Nora, I’m going to try and help you guys get out of here, but I’m probably going to need your help. Do you think you can do that for me?”</p>
<p>She nodded her head again and Peter started to tiptoe his way toward where the three of them were at to assess how bad it was for the other two. </p>
<p>“Can you tell me what’s wrong with the other two?”</p>
<p>“He was outside when the blast went off. Caught a piece of glass in the abdomen. It might be part of a project, can’t tell. He was bleeding a lot. I tied a piece of my shirt above the wound but he lost a lot of blood and passed out a few minutes ago. The other one was helping me but she doesn’t like seeing blood and when her fingers were starting to get messy she passed out too.”</p>
<p>Nora was trying to push herself up with the edge of the desk and Peter saw that the piece of fabric he noticed was missing earlier was much larger than he thought and that she was actually bleeding from underneath where it would have been too. </p>
<p>She managed to get herself up but she winced when she was standing on her own, losing her balance and bracing herself back on the table. She looked down to her side, where she was bleeding from and looked up at Peter, eyes wide. </p>
<p>She brought a hand to the cut and pulled it up, examining it and spreading the blood around. She wasn’t bleeding profusely and most of the blood actually looked like it was dry but Nora still looked incredibly frightened. </p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Peter reassured her, “you’re going to be okay. But we’ve got to get you and these two out of here first.”   </p>
<p>Peter watched as she took a deep breath and lifted her shoulders, setting her jaw. He helped her over to the side of the desk where the others were, letting her cling to his side. The boy was larger than the girl, but not by much, and they were laying side by side against the small, free patch of wall behind the desk. There was blood soaked through the boy’s shirt and he could see where Nora had used her shirt to try and stop the bleeding. He didn’t really think it did much, but he wasn’t going to say anything.</p>
<p>The girl had similar scratches to Nora’s but nothing like the gash on her side or her head. Her fingers had dried blood on them like Nora’s did and she had a small bruise blooming on the side of her head. </p>
<p>Peter turned his head to the right where Nora was holding onto him and pulled his arm away from her side.</p>
<p>“I have to get him out first. I don’t think the floor can hold more than the two of us at a time and he’s in the worst condition of you three. Can you try and wake her up before I get back?”</p>
<p>Nora nodded, slipping out of Peter’s grip and moving to neal next to the other girl. Peter moved around to the boy, sliding his arm underneath his shoulders trying not to move his abdomen too much and to cause the bleeding to surge. He wrapped the boy’s right arm around his shoulders and held it to his chest with his own right arm. With his free arm, Peter webbed himself back at the door, cautious of the fragility of the floor beneath him. </p>
<p>He managed to web himself to the window he came in from and kicked the shards of glass out from in front of it before setting the boy against the adjacent, non-broken window. It would be easier to try and carry all three of them down than to do them one at a time and threaten the support of the floor further by going back in and out.  </p>
<p>Once he was sure that the boy was steady and wasn’t going to fall through either of the windows, he made his way back to the girls, careful not to step too close to any cracks on the floor or web too close to the cracks in the ceiling. </p>
<p>Nora was able to wake the other girl enough that she could understand the directions Peter gave her, wrapping her arms tightly around Nora and not letting go. Peter took Nora’s side again and the hand that wasn’t braced around the girl wrapped back around Peter’s middle. He carried them out the same way he carried the boy out and set Nora down to stand in front of the broken window. </p>
<p>When he was sure they could maintain their balance, he bent down to pick the boy back up and instructed Nora to hold onto him the same way the other girl was holding onto her. He looked out from the window, noting that there were still ambulances outside and a few people were looking up at him. Six floors seemed a lot harder to go down with four people than to go up with one. </p>
<p>Nonetheless, Peter webbed a spot just above the window they were a few inches shy of being completely out of and just below the window above them with the hand on Nora’s side. He took one step and was out of the building, facing the ground five floors below him. </p>
<p>“Hey, I’m going to have to flip us around so we can get down. I need you to turn with me when I push us off the wall, okay?”</p>
<p>The girls both shook their heads and Peter put his feet flat against the brick, pushing and turning until he was facing the building instead of the people watching him. Now he could propel himself- and the others- down the side wall. With each push off, Peter let his web stretch out longer, landing him just below the next window down. </p>
<p>The first four floors were fairly easy to scale, but the missing chunk of building that took out the bottom three floors left him no room to put his feet on the way down. He couldn’t release his web altogether and risk not being able to reweb another part of the wall before they hit the ground. Propelling the last three floors in one go was his only option. </p>
<p>He took his last, small bounce off of the wall and let himself swing a little inside the hole in the building, waiting until they had stopped moving back and forth before slowly releasing more webbing until he felt his feet touch the ground. </p>
<p>As soon as he let go of the web that attached him to the building, two men came to grab the boy in his hands, rushing him over to the gurney they had set up in the street. Nora let go of her grip on him, taking a step back with the other girl still at her side. </p>
<p>“Thank you Spiderman,” she said and Peter just gave her a thumbs up and a quick, “You’re welcome.”</p>
<p>Nora smiled faintly and the girl beside her was still wide-eyed. Peter could see that she was crying.</p>
<p>“Are you going to be alright?” he asked.</p>
<p>She nodded and Peter thought that was all she was going to do, but then she spoke, “They took stuff.”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“The guys who set off the explosion, they took stuff. They took some tools and basic tech- like starters and things. I don’t think they took anyone’s finished projects or anything, but they were walking right outside our workroom.”</p>
<p>“You saw the people that did this?” Peter questioned. He figured whoever did it was just upset at Tony or Stark Enterprises or something. Not that they wanted to steal something. And if they went all the way up to the seventh floor then they likely wanted something specific. </p>
<p>“Mhm,” she said, “they were wearing normal clothes but they had some type of mask on so I couldn’t get a proper look at their faces. I think one of them was wearing a Stark shirt like the ones we were given at orientation.” </p>
<p>Peter nodded, taking in what the girl was saying and hoping that Karen was paying attention too. None of it felt random to him and he was beginning to think it was more than just an attack on Tony. </p>
<p>“You girls should go get looked at, make sure you’re okay. You both went through a lot today and you handled it very well. Thank you for helping out.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” the other girl said and Nora led her over to one of the unoccupied ambulances.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Peter was still on the news when he came home from school the next day. Aunt May was sitting at the table in their kitchen, the local news station was displayed on the TV in their tiny living room. She looked at him pointedly, but they both knew that she didn't really have a problem with his involvement in the events of the day before. </p>
<p>“How was school?”</p>
<p>“Fine,” Peter replied. And it was- fine- but he had two classes with MJ and no one else knew about their break up so every time someone came up to one of them or mentioned the other they had to explain it all. </p>
<p>It wasn’t as hard as Peter expected it to be to see MJ, but it was downright exhausting having to tell people over and over again that they weren’t together anymore. It actually seemed like his friends were taking it harder than either of the two of them were. They were noticeably trying not to make it awkward, making it awkward in the process. Honestly Peter kind of wished everyone just went back to normal and pretended nothing changed.   </p>
<p>“Just fine? How’s MJ?” Aunt May asked, and Peter was again questioning whether she had some sort of telepathic ability that she never told him about. </p>
<p>“Uh, MJ and I broke up yesterday. But I think she’s okay,” Peter shrugged, not wanting to be the focus of the sad look May was directing at him. </p>
<p>“Oh, Peter, I’m sorry. Are you okay?”</p>
<p>Peter shook his head and fought the lump that was closing in his throat by biting down on the bottom corner of his lip. He didn’t trust his voice and so he left it at that. </p>
<p>May seemed resigned to his response, like she wanted to push but wasn't going to. </p>
<p>“Okay, well I’m here to talk if you want to.”</p>
<p>He nodded again in response, not sure he could talk even if he wanted to. More than anything, Peter wanted to get his mind off of it all for a while- not think about MJ, but maybe not have to deal with a bombing either or think about what it meant that it happened. </p>
<p>Probably sensing Peter’s unwillingness to be forthcoming about anything more than casual conversation, May changed the subject, “Have you worked any more on the suit? Anything new?”</p>
<p>“Um, I haven’t changed anything since I last told you, but I do actually have some ideas for some minor changes,” Peter replied, grateful for the change. </p>
<p>“Like what?”</p>
<p>“I might add thermodynamic sensors to the parts of the suit that are more likely to come into contact with heat- like the feet and the hands.”</p>
<p>May seemed to consider it, smirking a little like she expected something along those lines, “Sounds good. Wish there was something like that to tell me when things that come out of the oven have cooled down enough.” She shuddered and Peter laughed; the number of explicatives he’s heard come from May because she was impatient and touched hot food was too high to count. </p>
<p>Peter wasn’t planning on going to Stark Tower to work on his suit, but talking about it with May made him consider it. He figured he had the time and it would be a good way for him to get out of his head for a while. </p>
<p>He threw his backpack in his room and let May know he was going and that he’d try to be back before midnight. When she asked if he wanted to eat first, he let her know that he had snacks at the Tower and he’d be fine.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>The handshake that Peter and Morgan do at the end of this chapter is possible, I've tried. </p>
<p>Let me know how you feel!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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